


dandelion

by Yellow



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Bondage, Fingering, M/M, arrell shuts up For Once, how in the heck do u tag porn, the looming apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 15:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11739702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellow/pseuds/Yellow
Summary: arrell is tense. alyosha has a solution.





	dandelion

**Author's Note:**

> i cannot fucking believe i used "and your distant smile" already. fuck me. talk to me about the great comet of 1812
> 
> i can't find the tweet but it was something like "alyosha fucking arrell so hard he shuts up for once. thanks"
> 
> you're Welcome
> 
> i just made a fantastic joke on twitter, MORE LIKE "LION'S TOOTH IN MY BED" please god strike me down
> 
> oh! thanks to the_erkonig for the safe word. lmao

"Tutor," Alyosha says, "be quiet."

Arrell furrows his brow, and for a moment he thinks about arguing. Some contrary part of him rears up against being ordered around, being tied. And it would be so easy to break the ropes. He's not trapped here, not in any real sense.

This is new. But Alyosha said-he wanted to try this. That it would let Arrell relax, for once.

Arrell had come in, shoulders around his ears, and Alyosha had sat him down on the bed, massaged his neck, whispered in his ear.

“Tutor, I think you would like it, here's the word we'll use.”

He can't see Alyosha, through the blindfold. But he can smell him, sense him. The candles glow dimly past the cloth in front of his eyes.

Arrell thinks for a moment and then he closes his mouth.

“Good,” Alyosha says, and kisses him.

It is strange, not being able to see Alyosha, not being able to reach out and touch him. He is naked, hands and feet tied to the bedposts, and he cannot see the touches coming.

Alyosha drags his nails down Arrell's side, light, and Arrell shivers.

Alyosha takes his time, kisses him slow, starts circling his thumb around Arrell's nipple. Arrell can feel himself getting hard. Alyosha trails a hand down Arrell's stomach and Arrell breathes in, sharp, when Alyosha passes by his dick. There's the noise of a bottle being uncorked and then Alyosha's slick finger is easing inside of him.

Arrell gasps.

“Does that feel good, Tutor?” Alyosha asks, leaning close to his ear and adding another, slowly scissoring him open.

“Please,” Arrell says, and Alyosha clucks his tongue.

“I thought I told you not to talk,” he says, “but for that, I'll make an exception.”

Alyosha adds a third finger, and it's so close to enough. Arrell moves against the ties and tries to thrust down on Alyosha's fingers; then they're gone and he whines, high in his throat.

“Relax,” Alyosha says, other hand on Arrell's shoulder. Arrell slowly loosens his muscles, relaxes in the ties.

“That's better,” he says. “Let me take care of you.”

And then his fingers are inside of Arrell again, and he's so close, his dick lying untouched on his stomach.

“Please,” he pleads again, but Alyosha keeps a steady, unhurried pace. It's torture, so close to enough.

"Alyosha," he moans, "I can't, I can't," and Alyosha hushes him.

"You can, Tutor, you're doing so well," he says, moving his fingers faster. Arrell is overstimulated to the point of pain, every brush of Alyosha's fingertips against his prostate like a jolt of electricity.

"Alyosha," he sobs, tears rolling down his face. It's too much. It's too much. But Alyosha is there, all around him, the scent of oranges, the brush of his robes, and Arrell throws his head back and lets Alyosha do what he will.

"Oh, Tutor," Alyosha says, soft. He leans in to kiss Arrell's cheek right as he crooks his fingers in just the right way, and Arrell comes all over his chest.

He sobs again. His hands hang loose in the ties.

Alyosha kisses his face.

"You're doing so well, Tutor," he says and wipes at Arrell's face. He moves to take the blindfold off.

"Leave it," Arrell says, barely managing to get the words out. Alyosha pauses.

"Okay," he says, leaning in to kiss his cheek again. "You're still alright? You remember the word?"

Arrell's head is foggy and his limbs are heavy. He licks his lips.

"Yes."

"And the word is...?"

"Dandelion." The vowels stretch but he gets the word out.

"Good," Alyosha says, and then there is a hand on his cheek. He lets himself turn into it.

"One more time," Alyosha says, and leans in to kiss Arrell, fierce. Arrell can't keep up. His lips are slow, clumsy, but Alyosha kisses him anyway, opening his mouth with his tongue.

Arrell gasps into Alyosha's mouth. Alyosha pulls back and for a moment he's only touching Arrell where he's leaning on him, then Alyosha's hands are on his nipples and Arrell shudders. He can feel himself growing hard again.

“It's good to see you like this, Tutor,” Alyosha says, kissing down his chest. “What are you thinking about?”

His vision is dark and thoughts are slow. Alyosha nips his chest and Arrell gasps.

“You,” he says.

“Good,” Alyosha says, and takes his dick in his mouth.

Arrell gasps again, throat raw. He almost comes right then-Alyosha hasn't touched his cock this whole time, and now-his mouth is warm and wet, and Arrell can picture the sight.

He can't reach his hands down to tangle in Alyosha's hair. He clenches his fists, weakly.

Alyosha is talented at this. Arrell's breath comes short.

“Aly-Alyosha,” he says, and Alyosha runs a soothing hand up his side.

He's close-he can feel the pressure building in his gut. Alyosha bobs his head and licks up Arrell's dick, sucks on the head.

“Oh,” Arrell says, like it's been punched out of him. “Alyosha,” he says, and comes in Alyosha's mouth.

Arrell drifts off and when he's aware again, Alyosha is removing the ties on his hands and feet. It feels strange to not be suspended, and Arrell lets Alyosha move his limbs as he pleases.

“Now, the blindfold,” Alyosha says, and he slowly unties it.

Arrell blinks up at him, eyes adjusting to the candlelight.

“Are you okay?” Alyosha asks, and Arrell just nods, tries to move closer to Alyosha. All he wants is contact, and Alyosha seems to understand, gathering him up effortlessly.

Arrell sighs, his head pillowed on Alyosha's collarbone.

“You're sure you're okay?” Alyosha asks, running a hand through Arrell's hair.

He wets his lips.

“Yes,” he manages.

Alyosha kisses his forehead.

“I love you,” he says, and Arrell moves closer, closes his eyes.

Alyosha moves for a moment, then the room is dark behind his eyelids and Alyosha's arms are around him. Arrell sleeps.

  
  


When he wakes Alyosha is still in bed but awake and reading. Arrell stretches, slow, and Alyosha looks over at him and smiles.

“It is late,” he says. “Should you get going?” He keeps his smile fixed on his face. Arrell studies him a moment, feels how heavy his limbs are. The sun is steadily rising but Arrell, for once, doesn't want to move.

He doesn't think about the Heat and the Dark. One morning. Only one morning shouldn't make a difference (and it will, it will, he is the only thing that can hold back the apocalypse, the only person who knows how to save them all, who knows how to save the man smiling down at him, little wrinkles in the corners of his eyes-)

Arrell swallows and puts his hand on Alyosha's.

“I can be late today,” he says, and Alyosha's smile widens.

“What would you like to do?” he asks, tripping over the words a little bit.

“What were you reading?”

Alyosha looks down at the book, surprised.

“Oh-accounts of Samothes from some newly uncovered pre-erasure records,” he says.

“Would you read some to me?”

Alyosha beams, eyes crinkling.

“Of course.”

Arrell moves to lean against Alyosha and lets the words wash over him. Alyosha has a soft, sweet voice, and Arrell will never get tired of hearing it.

He pauses to comment on the text and Arrell argues back, without heat.

Then, “Thank you.”

“For what, Tutor?” Alyosha asks, eyes dancing.

“You well know,” Arrell grumbles. He pauses, but Alyosha doesn't rescue him. “For last night.”

Alyosha takes his hand and kisses the palm.

“Of course, Tutor,” he says.

Arrell settles back against him and breathes out. One more hour. What is one more hour against entropy itself?

 

Ruin, his mind whispers, every wasted second will lead to his ruin, but Alyosha's voice is so soft, and so sweet, and as long as Arrell listens to him speak he can ignore his duty just a little while longer. 

**Author's Note:**

> gotta get that existential dread in there somewhere  
> find me whining @erintherockerin


End file.
